9 Masks
by TheCatchingLightAlchemist
Summary: Nine oneshots about masks that the Death Note characters wear. Self Forgetting, Envy, Fear, Anger, Control, Deceit, Pride, Greed, and Gluttony.
1. Chapter 1

Misa

Self Forgetting

I am the girl who smiles for the camera and waves at the paparazzi. I am the girl who dresses in gothic clothes and wears heavy makeup. I am the girl who dies her hair blonde and wears blue contacts. I am the girl who's dating the smartest and hottest man in Japan. I am the girl who giggles and greets you with a, "Hello! I'm Misa Misa! Misa Misa hopes we can be best friends!" I am the girl who listens to bubblegum pop music and spends hours dedicating herself to her fans. I am the girl who is always right. I am the girl who is creating a perfect world to rule with her perfect boyfriend. I am the girl who is perfect.

But I am also the girl who hides. I am the girl that longs for solitude. I am the girl that cringes from the flashing bulbs and attention. I am the girl whose fake smile has grown so flawless no one can tell when I'm sad. I am the girl who doesn't want to recognize herself in the mirror. I am the girl who pursues a man I know doesn't love me. I am the girl who can longer say the word "I", because I don't exist. I am the girl who listens to heavy metal and screamo. I am the girl who is terrified of all the clones trying to become "me." I am the girl who sits with a knife in her shaking hand as I hold it above my wrist never cutting, just waiting. I am the girl who is wrong. I am the girl that flinches at all the murders I committed in cold blood. I am the girl who is cracked and shattered. I am the girl who is only a fraction of what I once was. I am Misa Amane and I wear the mask of self forgetting.

I wasn't always what I am now. A ditzy blonde. A figure head created by the media. An idol. A murderer. I used to be normal. I had a family. I got good grades. Boys teased me. I was quiet and sweet. I obeyed my parents. I was happy.

Then they were killed. It was very simple. A man came in thinking no one was home. He had a gun. My mother screamed. He shot her. She died. My father's death quickly followed. I hid in my room terrified, peering through the crack of the door as red blood pooled around their lifeless dead bodies. Such a pretty color. The same color I paint on my lips.

The police came shortly after. I was kneeling on the floor besides my parents. Their blood stained my hands as I shook them. Their mouths were open. What would they have said? I love you? Their eyes were glazed over. What would they have seen? My tear stained face? It was then I had to stop being me.

I didn't want to be sad. I didn't want to remember. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be known. So I changed. I watched the flirty clueless stars on the TV and I imitated them. A smile there. A hair toss there. I began speaking in cutesy third person. I wore outlandish clothing so I would get noticed. And it worked. I wasn't Misa Amane anymore; I was Misa Misa the pop idol. Misa Misa's parents weren't murdered. Misa Misa wasn't afraid. Misa Misa was untouchable because Misa Misa wasn't real.

Then I was attacked. The man said he loved me despite the shining knife he pointed in my direction. He brandished it towards me asking for acceptance I couldn't give. I was frightened. No, Misa Misa was frightened. She had already given up any semblance of intelligence so how did she know she should have pretended if only to keep her alive until help came? The knife came down on her (or were they mine?) unprotected arms.

The man began to convulse and clutch at his chest. The knife clattered to the ground. He was obviously dead. It was then that I knew Misa Misa had failed. She hadn't kept me safe. I fell to the cold ground sobbing. I was still there when the police came. They comforted me to the best of their abilities and called my manager. I was taken home and my manager told me to get some rest. That I had a very important shoot the next day that I couldn't afford to miss. I wanted to spit in her face. She didn't care.

I went to the bathroom and got out the sleeping tablets. I counted out ten. The amount that would let me dream forever. I kept counting those little pills, over an over again. Each time I was getting closer to convincing myself to swallow them. I filled a glass with water. I put the first pill in mouth and raised the glass to my lips. It was ripped from my hand and fell to the ground, shattering. I felt a light pressure on my head.

A creature stood in front of me. A grotesque creature that was made up of bones and bandages. I wasn't frightened though. I asked if it was there to kill me. I giggled hysterically. I told it I wouldn't mind. In fact, I wouldn't resist at all. It embraced me. I began to sob again.

It told me that its name was Rem and that it was here to help. It gave me a notebook. I was to use it to take revenge in those in my way. I locked it away in a drawer. I wasn't a murderer. Not yet.

The days passed by in a blur. I mostly concentrated on blocking the world out. I was still Misa Misa to the public; I couldn't afford to let her go. I still needed some purpose in the world. Going without one was suicide. But there was something I couldn't avoid. Kira.

The name began popping up more and more and it was clear that they had a Death Note. But they were doing good. They were getting rid of everyone who had frightened me.

Then I learned the man who had killed my parents was going to be released. Still I didn't use my Death Note. I didn't have to. Kira did it for me. It was then my eyes were opened. But maybe the better word would be shut. I ignored the idea that this was wrong. I (or was it Misa Misa?) now knew Kira was justice.

I became obsessed with this man I had never met. The murderer I had convinced myself was a god. No, he was God. And I loved him. I worshipped him. I wanted to be his goddess. So I traded for the eyes. I gave up half my life for the man I was convinced would love me.

I sought him out. I was pleased that he was handsome and lovely. He was kind, though I knew it was false. But Misa Misa didn't know. And if she did, she didn't care. She wanted to be used. No, I wanted to be used. To be able to pretend at least for a little while. And Light was so very good at pretending. I endured torture. I gave up my memories. And when the time came, I gave up half my lifespan again. And then I forgot it all.

Then he betrayed me. He started using someone else. I sought her out too, if only to belittle and sow the seeds of doubt in her mind and put mine to rest. I convinced myself I had won, that he was still mine, though I had never owned him in the first place.

And then what did I have left when it was said and done? Rem was dead. Light was dead. Misa Misa was dead. I was left all alone with only the gaps in my memory and the strange feeling that I had blood on my hands.

What was I to do now? I had given everything to him. Everything to the man who did not love me. To the man who thought himself a God. To the man whose lies fell so naturally from his lips I would have gladly consumed poison if only to hear his honey sweet voice. What was I to do?

I had nothing now. Whether or not everything had been a lie didn't matter. I had nothing. That was why I now stand poised at the edge of a precipice dressed like a doll. That was all I was going to be. A broken doll that had fallen off its shelf. The doll would be mangled beyond repair. But that was alright. The doll didn't want to be fixed.

I stepped over the edge, preparing to indulge in the ultimate act of self forgetting and to fall into the nothingness of Mu, never wanting to remember again.

_Careful what you do_

_Cause God is watching your every move_

_Hold my hand in the dark street_

_For if you do then I know I'll be safe_

_Even if I'm far away and alone_

_I can be sure that you'll find me there_

_This I know_

_You draw me close for a while, so quiet_

_You tell me everything_

_If I forget what you say_

_Than you'll come to me and tell me again_

_Yes you'd tell me once again_

_But what happens when_

_I know it all?_

_Than what should I do, after that,_

_What then?_

**A/N: **This is the first of nine drabbles I'm going to do featuring masks that the Death Note characters wear. I actually like the idea that Misa and Misa Misa are two different people like Light and Kira are two separate people. I like this Misa much better. She's much more tentative and was very patient while waiting for me to get around and do this. Matt was much more impatient when I wrote Bonds of Brotherhood. He made me mess up several times during swim practice because he was ranting. So it'll be a while before I update because this is just a side project. My main goal is still Survivor, so be patient. The other characters I'm including are L, Light, Near, Matt, Mello, Matsuda, Sayu, and Ryuk.


	2. Chapter 2

Matsuda

Envy

Have you ever been completely and utterly unwanted? Have you ever been torn down so many times you can't even remember how it feels to be confident? Heh, what is confidence? That little thing that completely changes your demeanor. That thing that separates you from a kicked and abused puppy to a real man, who fights back with fire in his eyes. I don't ever remember having that feeling. I mean it's described often enough in books and stories, how the puny little weakling gets some muscles, friends, and a girl and suddenly he's nothing but perfect. Haven't you seen Disney's Hercules? Oh…is that analogy embarrassing? See what I mean? I'm not like _them_. I'm not like those people I've met in my life.

I'm not respectable like the Chief.

I'm not smart like Ryuzaki.

I'm not a winner like Near.

And I don't have charm like Light.

I am Touta Matsuda and I wear the mask of envy.

I mean how the hell can I be jealous of them? Of any of them? I'm not completely stupid. I know how the story ends, and it's not pretty for any of them. Three dead and one as good as dead; I mean legally speaking, Near doesn't even exist.

But still I'm jealous. So terribly, terribly jealous. I can't even justify it. It's almost blasphemous. A poisoning to all their memories. It's bitter and all consuming. I can't look back without thinking that I would do anything, _anything_, to have even a portion of their life, even their gristly ends. I don't care. Explosions, heart attacks, bullets, disappearances…I would endure it all. I'm such a sick bastard.

I mean how can I find it in my heart to feel like that towards the Chief? The guy was like a father to me! But still I can't help, but want it…the respect. How everyone was so devoted to him. The way the accepted his words without question. I mean honestly, why do think we all believed in Light for so long? The chief was so sure. So very _sure_. How could any of us argue? He was the Chief. He was our Chief. We followed him, even if it was blindly and against the small twinges of doubt we felt in our guts.

But really can you blame me? No one trusts me like that! Haven't you seen how the others treat me? "Matsuda, you idiot." That's all they have to say to me. I risk my life and still all I get is a grudging, "thanks, now go get us coffee."

I get it I mess up! I'm an idiot! Now please notice me! Tell me I've done something right! Even if it's just one thing! Tell me I'm not completely useless! Please! Anyone!

But I've finally accepted that. No one cares enough. I'm never going to match anything the Chief did so why should I try? That's probably why the job went to Aizawa. I'm lucky on that account. The only reason I even still have a job with the police is because of him. Heh, yeah it's lucky I'm such a good shot. That's what I joke. But in all honesty, I was aiming for Light's head. Way off. But I've learned to live with it.

And then there's Ryuzaki. Honestly, I am jealous of him. I would gladly endure all those bizarre mannerisms and habits if they would give me even a fraction of the intelligence that came with them. I mean have you listened to the guy? He could make the ingredients on a box of cereal sound like hardcore evidence on a case.

And the way he talks to the taskforce! He can make any of us sound like children. Can turn around any argument in his favor before switching back and making the whole thing sound like his idea. He can sway any skeptic. I swear, he even stumped Light sometimes.

But where did all that intelligence land him? Dead. Stone cold dead on the floor, leaving us in chaos, cringing and screaming like a lost toddler. And what's the kicker? I swear he knew it was going to happen. Not all that skittering around the edges with percentages and probabilities, but one hundred percent knew.

But I still want it. That way with figures and conclusions. How he made the most complicated deductions out of the least amount of evidence. I'm not smart. I'm lucky if I can string together the clearest pieces of proof together. I mean my intelligence basically stretches to being to remember a cover story and act drunk. Not very promising. I can't force myself to care anymore.

Then you come to Near. I don't know the guy. I mean, I can pretend to make a bunch of brilliant observations, but like I said before, I'm not smart. So I'll stick to simple. I'm real good at simple.

The ultimate chess master. I don't really understand chess, but I know the gist. You protect your King and Queen. You get rid of the pawns. Sadly, that's where we all fall in Near's eyes. We're his pawns, and he was willing to sacrifice us. That's not what I want though. I don't have it in me to toss people aside. Guess that's just me being weak.

No what I want, is that assurance of victory. Of knowing you were going to win and being able to mock your opponent before leaving them to wallow in their defeat for the rest of their days.

I get a rush just thinking about it. I mean, I'm not sadistic. I just want a taste of that feeling. A small taste. Just a glance at how it would feel, to finally say I win. But I understand that I can't have that.

And then we come to our final person. The one who lost in saying, "I win." The Chief's son. The main Kira suspect. The second L. Light Yagami.

God, I can't even begin to describe who much I wanted to _be_ Light. That's the only way I can get my point across. I wanted to become Light. I could imagine how it would feel. To have complete support from everyone, because really, how couldn't you support Light? You loved him. Everyone did. It wasn't optional. Even Ryuzaki in the end probably fell prey to the "Yagami" charm.

Yeah the Yagami charm. How girls melted at his smile. How you would obediently follow at his heels with a promise of friendship. I know. He got me good. He took me in completely. I was powerless. Even when he had Misa and clearly didn't want anything to do with her, while I was practically throwing myself at her, I didn't hold it against him. I couldn't. He was my friend.

Heh friendship. That's a real laugh. He wasn't my friend. Hell I was like bug to him. He tolerated me, but wouldn't hesitate to grind me under his foot if it was convenient.

God, he's the only one I can't get over. Because as much as I want to say I'll accept I won't ever be like him, I still can't help wishing I was. No, I want to be Light. To have the power to say, "Stop." To have stilled all of this death note business in the beginning.

Can't you see it? I can. It all rewinds behind my closed eyes. And then it plays forward again. And again. And again.

It scares Sayu, the nightmares. She thinks it's guilt that keeps me up screaming all night. Who am I to tell her otherwise? That it's envy that keeps pulling me back.

But I don't feel guilty. If anything, I wish I could relive that moment. Let my finger pull that trigger. To calm my shaking arm. To hit what I aimed for. To finally kill that envy. That perfect smirking face that stared defiantly back at us. To have relief. To be able to sleep untroubled. To appreciate my half happy ending.

I mean to anyone else I'm so Goddamn lucky. I have a job. I have friends. I have Sayu. But I can't kill that bitter taste left in my mouth by it all. And so my envy doesn't die. Instead it tightens it grip and I welcome it.

"_Envy eats nothing but its own heart__"_

~Author's Note~

Long time in between updates, and Matsuda was so patient. I support the Sayu/Matsuda pairing and I'll explain more about it in Sayu's chapter which is up next.


	3. Chapter 3

Sayu

Fear

Fear. That feeling you get when you walk the streets alone at night. When a stranger looks at you a second too long. When you turn around, sure that someone, no something, had just been there. It's a feeling we all should be familiar with. Maybe your parents used it as incentive. Telling you tales of little boys and girls who wandered away or disobeyed their parents and met some sticky end. Of little red riding hood being stalked by a wolf. Or maybe you discovered it yourself when you found yourself terrified of sleeping because of the monsters that lurked behind the normally innocent objects in your room.

But it's not just the horror that gets you. The inability to move, scream, or even breathe. No. It's how it taints everything. A dark covering that leaves you to shiver in perpetual terror. I know. Fear greets me like an old friend. I've always been afraid. Afraid of failing, of not living up to my families expectations, or of disappearing completely. To fade away to never be seen from again. Because that's all I could see myself as. The child who was going to be gone one day. And no one would notice. Least of all my family. My name is Sayu Yagami and I wear the mask of fear.

But for what reason did I have to be afraid? My family loved me. They supported me. But I couldn't escape the feeling I was a disappointment. It was natural I suppose, especially with a brother like Light. He was perfection, who was I to compete with that? So at first I didn't try to surpass him, accepting my role as second best, second loved, and second wanted.

And then came the Kira case. I'm sure you've heard this many times. How lives were changed. Ideals and families torn apart. Maybe it's overdone to say this, or cliché. But it's true. My life was changed. Light and Dad were gone so much more. And when they came home, their eyes slid past me, still thinking about the case. Maybe I could have handled it if it stopped there, but it didn't. Soon I was invisible everywhere. Family, teachers, the people who I thought were my friends let me slip into the background.

Because that's all I was. A background. A plain and dull set to make everyone else seem so much brighter. So much more vibrant. I provided contrast. But no one pays attention the dark when compared to the light. The light is simply more appealing.

What was I to do? Could I accept my role as a supporting character, one whose name was rarely remembered if my part was mentioned at all?

So I changed. I started mimicking Light. Remembering how he smiled and talked. I started studying, determined to bring home perfect scores. It worked didn't it? I got recognition from my teachers, friends, even Mom smiled when I brought home my report cards. She smiled as she told me how much I was like Light. Not knowing how it hurt. To twist those shards at my heart.

All I just a copycat. I wasn't told how I made her proud, by being me. I was praised for being Light. The next few years passed like this. But I smiled throughout it all, determined to make her love me for being me.

If I had thought I had known about fear then, I was severely misguided. Nothing could compare to what came next in my life.

I was taken. Simple as that. No one seemed to notice. Of course not. I wasn't anyone worth noticing.

I can still recall the ice that crept into my veins. I wasn't stupid. Remember how I had been raised on the tales of disobedient children? Of little red riding hood? And of the wolf that ate her? But that was abridged version. Oh yes, the tale is worse. Much worse.

Little red riding hood is a girl walking to her grandmother's house alone. She decides to take a shortcut there. She is unaware of the man stalking her. She is his prey. He is the wolf. She enters her grandmother's house only to find her dead, violated and bleeding. And who do you suppose creeps up behind her? The wolf. And then she meets the same fate.

The woodsman who saves the day is a lie. Something invented to try to spare the innocence of children. No one is going to save her.

But what is worse than believing that is going to happen to you? That you are going to be violated and sold like a piece of meat? It's not knowing for sure. Of your mind conjuring up all the possibilities. That plane ride, I realize now it was a plane ride, left me in a state of fear so thick all thought had fled my mind. Images just relayed in my head. Of girls dead in the street. Of me dead in the street.

Then my blindfold was removed and I was faced with men all heavily armed speaking in a language I could only loosely comprehend. And then there were all the leery looks in my direction. A man placed his meaty hand on my thigh.

He was shot. In the head. I watched as the bullet entered through his skull and passed through. Such a neat easy wound to end someone's life. But blood was inevitable. It trickled from his lifeless body. I couldn't move. I was struck dumb.

Everything after that is muddled. I remember Dad getting me vaguely. I remember, spending a lot of time in a chair. I remember being confused to find myself in different places and clothes in what seemed like seconds to me. And I remember him. Matsuda. Touta as he asked me to call him.

I don't remember his words. I just saw his mouth moving and he would smile. Sometime he brought flowers. Sometimes I think I managed to smile back. I honestly don't know why he kept coming back

But I do remember the day he told me Dad died. I remember that with blinding clarity. That was the day I kissed him. The day he kissed me back. The day I wasn't just the background.

And I remember the day he told me Light had been Kira. My brother. My elder brother. I had been numb, but Touta had brought me back. He had pulled me away from the fear. And then he had told me that he had shot Light. By that point I honestly didn't care. I knew he had stopped being my brother a long time ago.

It gives him nightmares. He wakes up screaming. Plagued by the same fear I am. That he will disappear. So I hold him, just as he holds me when I wake up sobbing.

I am not brave. But I am not alone. It is an unfair compromise, but we will live through it.

_Fear, true fear, is a savage frenzy. Of all the insanities of which we are capable, it is surely the most cruel._

~Author's Note~

There. That was Sayu's chapter. Mello is up next!


	4. Chapter 4

Mello

Anger

The name is Mello. I wear the mask of anger. What did you expect? Some paragraph long sob story of how shitty my life was leading to the anger? Well don't worry. It's coming. Oh it's coming. I just don't like conforming to what "everybody else" is doing.

So I'm angry. I feel like I have justification for it. My family was murdered when I was young. My mother hid me in a closet, draping her rosary around my neck with an order to be quiet. Then she went to get my little sister.

And then she was killed.

With my four year old sister in her arms. And then she was killed too. Her skull was crushed beneath a man's boot. I would learn later my father had been killed as well.

That's when I found the gun. Hidden in the closet by my father.

People always complain how hard it is to pull the trigger. I didn't face that difficulty. I aimed and hit the man in between the eyes. I felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction at seeing his lifeless body.

Somehow I don't recall the next few days. Or weeks. The records say I was shifted from orphanage to orphanage. They say I was violent. Hurting children and caretakers alike. I don't remember. And if I did, I doubt I would feel any sort of regret.

My first cognizant memory is of Wammy looking down at me with pity. I couldn't stand that. I remember screaming at him. And then the crazy old man smiled at me. He fucking smiled.

Oh I'm sorry. Does my language offend? Get the fuck over it.

So the old man smiled and said he had been looking for someone like me. Someone with spirit. I wouldn't call it spirit. I would call it bitter disappointment in everyone and everything.

I was about to spit in his face when he handed me a bar of chocolate. I'd never had chocolate.

So sue me. I liked it and went with him.

When I arrived at Wammy's, the place was almost empty. Only a few kids were there. Scared kids. Terrified kids. I didn't learn until later A had just committed suicide and B had supposedly followed.

Needless to say, I got a lot of stares. No one said anything though. I was left pretty much alone. Just how I liked it. My own room. Classes where even the teacher's didn't dare call on me unless my hand was fucking raised. It was a welcome caricature of control and power. Painted perfectly to suit me.

I didn't mind. I suppose some part of me recognized this and was grateful or some other sort of bullshit. Anyway.

People didn't give me any problems. At least not until he showed up.

I remember coming back from class one day to see him sitting there like he fucking owned the place. He was on the bed. Not mine. But the other one. The one that had remained gloriously vacant for the past four months.

He looked up at me, his eyes were blocked by goggles of all things, that were a vibrant orange shade that practically made me barf. I preferred black. He was wearing an enormous striped shirt that was bordering on falling off. His jeans were too small, revealing at least an inch of skin before his red high tops covered the rest. Did I mention his wine red hair and gameboy? No? Well put it all together and what to you get?

A nerd. That's right. My roommate was a fucking nerd. And my future best friend, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?

I scowled at him and threw my bag onto my bed. It hardly got the reaction I desired. I was used to people tiptoeing around me, so the lazy, "Hey," I got in response only served to piss me off.

He turned the game off. And stood up, revealing he was about an inch taller than I was. He looked me up and down in mild interest.

"You look like a chick."

One comment and I had already snapped. My fist moved of its own accord, connecting solidly to the side of his face. He was knocked to the floor and I seized him by the neck of his oversized shirt about to let another one fly. When something caught my attention.

His expression. His goggles had been knocked off his face and they dangled around his neck, so I got a clear view of his eyes. He was just…the calmest fucking kid I've ever met. He didn't look scared or mad. Hell, he didn't even look anything! He was just looking at me without any sort of judgment.

I let go off his shirt in disbelief. The kid held out his hand. Numbly I took it and he hauled himself to his feet.

"Name's Matt."

"…Mello."

"Is it."

And that was that. Matt has been the only person I've ever met to diffuse me so completely. He was water to douse the fire that seemed to be continually bursting into existence.

And then he came.

That fucking white haired bastard.

I had been at Wammy's long enough to establish a reputation. I was number one. And Matt was my unwilling number two. That's just how things worked.

Then Near came. When I first saw him, he hardly bothered me. He looked like a toddler. Hardly competition. And then I saw the test results.

I still remember his blank face when I saw him. It wasn't Matt's constant Zen expression. It was mechanical. Manufactured. And he stared at me. Picking me apart. And then he was on the ground with me clawing at him.

Matt hauled me off and then I was attacking him, until I realized my mistake. I shoved Matt away and stormed off.

If Matt was water then Near was gasoline. No. Alcohol. Addicting and hated.

I couldn't stay away. Couldn't stop myself from trying to burn Near and myself along with him. I suppose Matt too. He took more than his fair share of the beatings I meant for Near.

Life continued that way. A cycle of hating and attacking. Of burning and being burned.

And then he died. L died.

I met L once. He told me a story. About a man consumed by revenge and tired to burn the world down. But in the end, he was the only one with charred skin. L wasn't nearly as subtle as he thought he was. I saw the story for what it was. A warning. A warning not to let go. Not to release the match.

Needless to say I didn't follow the advice.

I spent the next five years burning myself.

When the time came where I actually was burned, I laughed at the irony. Tears, hysterical tears that dripped down stinging the side of my face as Matt frantically bound it with bandages.

The scar suited me. Showed how deep the burns went. And the burning continued.

Fire blazed around me as I planned my own demise.

I regret very little about my life. Matt I suppose. Though I doubt he would have survived long after me. I had found the needles and pills along with his cigarettes.

And the Yagami family. The family I had ripped apart. I had damaged a daughter and erased a father. I was no better than the man who had murdered my family.

But then again. I never claimed I was.

And when I felt my heart constrict and felt the flames finally consume me, I smiled.

_Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools_

~Author's Note~

Yes. It's been a long time. I apologize. Mello just wasn't being as angry as I needed him to be. Near is next up.


	5. Chapter 5

Near

Control

White walls. White floors. White clothes. Perfection. Blank and smooth like porcelain. Unblemished. I am safe inside these walls. I am safe hidden behind the games and puzzles. I am secure hidden behind my cold eyes, the only dark in what otherwise would be pure blinding white; like pure snow. Perhaps this is fitting. Eyes are often called windows to the soul. It only follows that my eyes show my only flaw. The mechanical calculations that are revealed to no one but myself; and even then behind closed doors.

I am Near and I wear the mask of control.

Control. To most, it is only an illusion. Something to repress unwanted emotion or behavior. To put it simply, control is a lie to most. Emotions that are easy to repress aren't strong enough to escape in the first place. So when an emotion does burst forth, unbridled and raw, it is then the illusion is shattered.

So how is this avoided? How do you contain this? Very few have found the answer. And in those few, even less have continued upon the curse of action once they discovered what it entailed. The complete destruction of emotion.

It is impossible to lose power over what you have never had.

It is in this way that I have become superior. It is in this way I have become L's true successor.

I assume you have already heard Mello's testimony on how he came to Wammy's House. I am quite sure he painted me as a villain. The destroyer of his era. I will neither deny nor concede to these accusations. They are petty and hardly worth my time.

When I was brought to the Wammy House, unlike most children, my parents were still alive and well. It was not tragedy or malice or hate that brought me to the House.

It was fear.

I frightened my own parents.

It was not my strange appearance that terrified them. I vaguely remember the looks of adoration they had given me, all the toys. No. It was not my appearance, though that eventually may have contributed to their decision to abandon me on Wammy's doorstep.

I simply didn't speak. I didn't cry. I didn't ask for anything. I didn't walk. They took me to specialists; terrified there was something wrong with me. They were told the same thing every time. I was simply quiet. That I should be exposed to other children.

Of course all attempts at this failed. I had no patience for the loud immature games I was expected to partake in, and even less for the loud-mouthed children who played them.

I can't recall the first time my mother's eyes had completely lost any love for me and were only filled with fear.

The Ghost Child.

Those were the words I heard her use to describe me. And they led to me being left alone.

It was raining when they left me. I was brought inside. I mutely handed Wammy the note explaining. He was gone for fifteen minutes. That was that it took for me to become an orphan.

I do not want you to think that for even a moment any of this bothered me. One environment was the same as any other to me. My parents had explained to me the nature of the home beforehand. A home for geniuses.

If I feel anything for them I suppose it would be mild gratitude. Neither anger nor abandonment. I am above those trivial emotions. Yes I felt gratitude.

It was shortly after that I saw Mello and Matt for the first time.

I had never seen anyone like them.

Color.

They had color in what had previously been a black and white world for me, with the occasional gray.

I suppose I had developed a slight fascination for them. And when the first test scores had been posted after my arrival, I had seen anger for the first time.

Mello had flown at me, clawing at me. I hadn't made any move resist. How could I? I soaked up the anger, raw and passionate, like a sponge. If he had wanted to kill me, I don't believe I would have stopped him.

Then Matt had interfered, and for a few brief moments he had been on the receiving end, before Mello came to his senses, storming off. But I didn't feel disappointment. No. I felt nothing.

Instead I stared at the red droplets that formed on my skin. The blood that stained the snow.

I purposely aggravated Mello at every opportunity, wanting to see that rage. The red.

Then Mello's world came crashing down again. And Matt and I were both left behind. We were the same that way I suppose. Without Mello, we lost our color.

When the Kira case finally became feasible for me to accomplish, I used as it as I had always used opportunities. To lure Mello.

The Kira case brought the colors together in a swirl. Mixing together to form vibrant shades.

And then they were dead.

Both of them.

Mello and Matt.

But the colors continued. It puzzled me, somewhere in the back of my mind.

But it wasn't until I saw the blood blossoming across Light Yagami's body did I understand. The colors weren't for me to keep. They had been a gift. A last mocking sneer from Mello as he dragged himself to oblivion.

And when Light Yagami's body fell lifeless to the ground, the colors faded along with it, and I hid once more behind white walls.

_Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past._

~Author's Note~

Matty boy is up next. I like the idea that Near had emotions, but managed to convince himself he didn't. And when he was forced to acknowledge them, he called them colors. L was not mentioned here except in passing. That is because L the person was not important to Near, only the title.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt

Deceit

L once spoke to us about monsters.

Monsters who abduct children. Monsters who devour dreams. Monsters who suck blood. Monsters who always tell lies.

He said lying monsters were the worst. That they pretend to be human though they don't understand the human heart. They eat, but they've never been hungry. The study though they don't want to learn. And they seek friendship, but don't know how to love.

L said if he ever met that sort of monster, he would be eaten by it, because he was that monster. But he was wrong. He wasn't that monster.

I am.

My name is Matt and I wear the mask of deceit.

Is it surprising? That I'm a liar? It shouldn't be. It's always the quiet ones. Isn't that what they say?

I can't tell you when I started lying. I honestly can't remember. To be honest, I don't remember a lot before Wammy's House.

I suppose my parents must have loved me. At the very least I remember them showing me off. How I could stay quiet while the adults talked without fidgeting. It wasn't a very physical love. They never hugged or kissed me. They didn't even like holding my hands.

They were sticky my mother said once. After that, I was careful to always wash my hands. But she didn't notice. She didn't want to risk dirtying herself and ruining her image with her snooty friends.

They must have been rich too. I had things that I found out later people didn't normally have. A big house. A nanny. The video games my parents bribed me with.

It's all very vague though. A faded photograph or watercolor that was left out in the rain.

The car crash doesn't even really stick to mind.

We were just driving, and then we weren't. There must have been a time overlap from the actual crash to when I noticed we weren't moving.

They were cold when I noticed. The blood from the wounds caused by the impact to the tree and broken windshield already drying. I got out of the car.

It was still daytime. I went through the trunk. I wasn't looking for supplies or anyway to find help. I was just…detached. Detached from their deaths. They really didn't affect me at all.

There were bags. We were coming back from an antique show. I ignored the vases and twisted chunks of metal my mother had raved about.

Then I found the goggles. I put the goggles on. I started walking. It wasn't long before some concerned old woman pulled over asking where my mother was. I just pointed down the road.

I could describe what happened in between, but none of it mattered. I was just taken to Wammy's.

I lied like I had before. Yes, I loved my parents. Yes, I was glad I had been brought here. Yes, I missed them. Thank you. Thank you. Yes, I like the room. Thank you.

I laid on the bed of my new room on the vacant side. My roommate wasn't there. I started playing my gameboy. I wasn't left alone for long.

He came in with a scowl on his face, throwing his bag on his bed. I turned the game off and stood. I was taller than him.

He was blonde. Skinny. Angular. He wore all black, looking like he was in mourning. For what I didn't know. There was a rosary around his neck. Surprising really. He didn't look like the type. He had blonde hair cut like a girls. He could pass for a girl with the loose clothes, except for his expression.

"You look like a chick." The words were out my mouth without thinking. The truth, with a lie mixed around it so neatly.

He punched me. I can't say it didn't surprise me. My goggles were knocked off, resting around my neck. The world lost its orange tint. He seized me by the neck of my shirt with his fist raised.

I looked back at him. His eyes were blue. I hadn't realized with the goggles. They were the brightest blue I had ever seen. So I just stared.

Whatever rage that had been in his eyes just…disconnected. He was completely and utterly derailed. He looked so confused. I held out a hand, and he tugged me to my feet.

"Name's Matt."

"…Mello."

"Is it."

We were friends. Odd as it was. We just were.

That was probably the first time I actually recognized I was lying to myself.

That the goggles didn't mean anything. Really, it was a childish lie. That the world was made up of oranges, reds, and yellows. No blues or greens. It was a lie though. And Mells ripped it away from me.

And he kept ripping them away. He knew what bothered me. What pissed me off. What I loved. It was weird. It was probably why I hardly ever took the goggles after that.

I couldn't lie to Mells, but I could lie to myself.

To be honest, Near really didn't affect my life at all. Mells didn't talk about him. Not around me. Sure I dragged him off the kid a few times, but that was out of concern for Mello's hide, not the albino's.

He didn't like me. I think he liked the idea of me. Of a best friend for Mells. But he didn't actually like me. Mello was just a common point between us.

So it made sense when Mells left that I didn't see Near after that. L had died. Mells was gone. Near didn't want anything to do with me.

I was a mess anyway. Not clean cut enough. Not when I reeked of cigarettes. Not when I broke into Roger's stash of rum. Not when I bought the first needle or took the first pills.

Surprised? Remember? It's always the quiet ones.

What was I supposed to do? I had been spoon-fed a drug my very first day here. It dripped into my veins. The burn unnoticeable. I should have seen it coming. After all, I was on a high of sorts. So when my drug of choice, my fucking addiction, left, what was I to do?

It was hell. The kind that slowly guts you and rips you apart from the inside out.

When Mells called, I fucking cried. I was on the first plane to LA.

When did you start smoking he had asked.

I shrugged.

Can't remember. That's what I mumbled.

But we both knew. Mells always knew my lies.

Then he burned himself. The bastard decided to sacrifice everything and came back barely breathing from smoke inhalation and nerve damage.

God. Mello was really a drug now. He had become deadly for me. But now I needed the other vices to be able to survive Mello's effects. Aside from the smoking, I had been clean since coming to LA.

I promised myself I would stay clean for Mells. Another fucking lie. I should be used to them by now.

So when Mells told me about his plan to kidnap Takada, I agreed.

I stopped lying to myself. I had always been a time bomb. I only hoped the explosion wouldn't take Mells with me.

So when I was speeding down the streets in that red car I had bought on a whim, I was having the fucking time of my life. No more hiding in a fake reality where the press of a few buttons let you save the day. I was fucking alive.

When I got out of that car. I smiled. The goggles were still on, but the world wasn't orange. Not when the bullets entered my chest. Not when I dropped to the ground. Not when the still burning cigarette dropped from my mouth.

The world was red.

And then it was black.

_Everyone is born sincere and die deceivers_

~Author's Note~

There was Matty. Sorry about the wait, I was just really considering my perception of Matt. The dialogue and scene where Mells meets Matty is identical to how Mells describes it, just from different viewpoints. L's up next as Pride.


	7. Chapter 7

L

Pride

What is it that makes us human? Is it our intelligence? Our ingenuity?

Perhaps in our primal conception; that is what had us as a whole separated from the beasts of nightmare. We took comfort in our own creations. In the glow of a fire; in the strength of our spears.

Now there is no need for this distinction; not with the creatures of this Earth however. We have exerted our mastery over them. We have hunted and drove them to near extinction. And if by some chance they wander into our world, they are captured and taken into captivity.

No, the distinction is not needed between humanoids and the animal kingdom. Not when we have so neatly merged with another of our creations. Technology.

That is what my self-disgust has driven me to. The disgust with both myself and the plague we have unleashed upon this Earth.

I am no longer human; but machine.

I do not hear, smell or touch.

I am blind.

As justice should be.

I am L and I wear the mask of pride.

Where did this distancing begin?

Perhaps childhood, where I was abandoned and mocked. Stared at and whispered about. Rumors passed from child to child, eventually to the caretakers who in time also began to think something was not right about me.

_Freak._

_Unwanted. _

_Monster._

These were these were the words my so called peers hissed at me when I passed. To them, I was an untouchable.

I found solace in books. Equations. Formulas. Theories. Words from philosophers.

The whispers continued; increasing. I began to dread sleep where their words haunted me and even worse when I lay awake only to hear the insults continued and rumors passing from bed to bed. I slept in the library if I slept at all.

The murmured insults in passing turned to open taunts. They began to steal my food. My clothes. My favorite books went missing. I lost weight. My shoulders started to hunch permanently. The result of blows falling on my body.

But then a man began to come. He visited me once a week. He did not sneer or look down upon me. He smiled at me. We talked about things that interested me. The changes within me did not go unnoticed.

His smile became tinged with worry when I picked things up with only the tips of fingers after I had been burned by one of their more malicious pranks. It became forced when the bags under my eyes made their home on my face permanently. The smile stopped altogether when I began sitting with my knees drawn up to my chest; the ultimate position of vulnerability.

It was not until the accident that he acted.

It was rare that I was tormented so publicly. The other children specialized in subtly, but for whatever reason there was an exception made that day. It does not matter. What matters was that when I refused to answer to their venomous words, I was shoved. From the top of the stairwell. And that the injury forever curved my spine.

What once was a method of comforting myself became a reminder of the abuse I had suffered daily.

The man removed me from the institution.

His name was Quillish Wammy.

He took me to a large manor house.

He gave me whatever I asked for. He encouraged my interests; letting me pursue whatever had me captivated at the time. He did not scold me when I began to refuse normal food and eat only sweets. Not even when I was at first made sick. I still felt the need to explain myself to him. I said they were critical to my thinking process. He only smiled indulgently. We both knew they were to cause my inability to sleep.

Eventually my interest drifted towards the justice system. I requested a computer; an outlandish thing for anyone to own at the time.

I began solving cases.

It was much different than my previous pursuits. It was not predictable like mathematics; nor was it abstract like literature and philosophy. It was a combination of logic and variation that had me thoroughly intrigued.

I excelled at it.

Within a few years I was recognized as the Detective L; though it was still years before I was acclaimed worldwide. Wammy was thrilled at my success and began making arrangements for the future. He spoke of plans of capturing mass murderers and placing behind bars. These were idealistic dreams; a result of the time he had served in the military. I kept silent. I could not tell him that this was a mere hobby; a way of relieving boredom.

He eventually spoke of successors. Ones to take over when I was gone. It made me uneasy to think of someone taking my place so easily. But I agreed.

I was left on my own for long periods while Wammy began searching. He made arrangements. Interviewing teachers, renovating the house, thinking of curriculum. I was a ghost hiding in the shadows as people came in and invaded my home. I pushed down my feelings of discontentment. Wammy had the idea of creating a whole school around the mission of succeeding me. I nodded numbly and continued on with my cases.

One day he brought two boys. A and B. They were to succeed me and be the first in line. He introduced us. I walked away in disgust. I ignored the apologies Wammy made to them. Both boys ran after me and tugged on my shirt. I turned and shot them a look of loathing.

The smaller and fairer one blanched, hastily backing away. The other met my stare defiantly, his chin lifted moving his long unkempt dark hair out of his equally dark eyes. There was something unnatural in those eyes. I suppressed a shiver and stared back until he looked away.

Just as I had thought.

They were unworthy. They had not suffered like I had. I was above them; somewhere they could never hope to reach. Why shouldn't they know their place?

It is only now I recognize the first stirring of what had been pride. It is only now I realized I was taking revenge upon young children who had suffered just as much as I had. It is only now I realized I shattered them and they could not be fixed as I had been.

I continued to belittle their achievements. I was cold and I tore them down.

Then they shattered.

A committed suicide.

B descended into madness.

Wammy blamed himself.

I felt shame for the first time.

My pedestal became unbalanced. I began to doubt myself. I questioned my own though process. I had allowed my emotions to rule me. I eliminated them. Wammy watched on in worry.

I began to pursue justice for the sake of justice, not my own cruel amusement.

I captured B after he committed three murders and attempted suicide. It was not pain I felt when I saw his face disfigured with burns. No, you must recall I was impartial. Blind.

My life continued in this way. I retreated farther into dark room lit only by glowing monitors. Birthdays passed but I did not grow older. I ate and drank but did not hunger or thirst. It was only out of habit that I continued to devour sweets. I did not sleep, only working until my body shut down; and only then for the briefest times. I was a machine.

I was justice.

Until a boy who called himself God challenged me.

This boy did not flinch or look away when I met his eyes. For the first time, I was met with equality.

Justice was blurred. Petty revenge began to plague me. Emotion creeped back in.

He wished me dead. That was obvious enough from his smiles and eyes. They reflected wickedly back at me.

It did not stop me from craving his companionship. Or his friendship. Or his poison.

When the arrogance in his eyes began to fade and he began to smile honestly, I lowered my guard. I truly became his friend.

Which is why I did not look away when he killed me.

I was dead the moment he screamed in what should have been our moment of triumph. And when he looked at me, with murder in his eyes once more, I fell.

I fell from my pedestal. I was taught humility by the cruelest teacher. I felt human.

Was it strange that I felt happy? Kneeling at his feet as a servant?

Perhaps it was his own look of tenderness in his eyes. Or was that my pride again? Deluding myself into believing he cared.

Pride or not, I was honest when I told him it would be sad when we would part ways. I ignored the rage that returned to his eyes.

And when he was staring down at me, murderous glee in his eyes, I wanted to smile.

I had been made equal.

I was human.

"_Pride makes us artificial, humility makes us real."_

~Author's Note~

This took serious thought. I left how L became an orphan to your own interpretation. I tried to add canon elements from a short I read by the authors about L. One was how he had a computer when it was extremely rare. I also gave Watari a military background to explain his sniper skills. I added an accident because even I don't believe L is completely hunched over by choice.

I hope I've done L, forgive the pun, justice. Next up is Light with Greed and Ryuk finishing it off with Gluttony.


End file.
